


200 Cigarettes, 1 Broken Guitar and 4 Rules

by Ceares



Category: Entourage
Genre: Community: picfor1000, F/M, M/M, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-24
Updated: 2009-02-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 19:54:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceares/pseuds/Ceares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I can never thank Linsey enough for taking the time to beta while wrapped up in mid-terms. You rock! For <a href="http://picfor1000.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://picfor1000.livejournal.com/"><b>picfor1000</b></a></p>
    </blockquote>





	200 Cigarettes, 1 Broken Guitar and 4 Rules

**Author's Note:**

> I can never thank Linsey enough for taking the time to beta while wrapped up in mid-terms. You rock! For [](http://picfor1000.livejournal.com/profile)[**picfor1000**](http://picfor1000.livejournal.com/)

This is my picture 

 

**I Want to be Sedated** comes back on the table and the tension that's already swallowing Eric ratchets up until he can barely breathe. They've been down this road with their little obsession projects before and E doesn't know if he wants to go down it again. Maybe Ari is right and passion for a project isn't how they really need to pick their jobs. Of course the breathing thing, the occasional pains in his chest might be in part because he's smoking again. More than before. It warrants a few frowns of disapproval from the guys but these days everybody is pretty much tied up in their own thing and they rag on each other a lot less.

He's doing everything more these days. Working more, going out more. Drinking more, fucking more. None of it helps. He has a cab on speed dial for the nights he's so drunk he can't drive home, for the nights he has no idea whose home he winds up in.

He takes another meeting with Amanda; a client of hers is interested in doing Charlie's show. They snarl at each other through lunch and have just enough to drink that going back to her place and fucking the rest of the afternoon seems like a good idea. She doesn't buy him any jewelry and he doesn't even have the _urge_ to call her.

He's at a club one night when a kid comes up to him, and buys him a drink. Talks to him about representation. And he's desperate and trying, oh so hard to hide it, and tall, and pretty, and Eric is so fucking wasted, that he winds up in the bathroom with the boy on his knees sucking him off, his hands tangled in dark curls. Afterward, with the boy retching in the nearest stall and Eric a few swallows away from joining him, he prays to God the kid can act.

"Listen..."

"Derek." The kid is wide-eyed now, waiting. Eric wonders how often he's done this. Someday he'll have to find out, for damage control if nothing else.

"Derek. I don't do this, and you don't do this. We're not building your career on your knees, got it?"

He nods, and the sweet, hopeful smile he gives Eric when E gives him his card is enough. As soon as he leaves, E vomits up possibly everything he's ever consumed. He's starting to realize his mistake wasn't accepting Vince's apology, it was coming back here in the first place. He doesn't know how much longer he can do this.

 

 

 

Vince is practicing on the guitar. He says. "You know E, I was thinking maybe we could get Billy to..."

And apparently how much longer he can do this? Ends now. He yanks the guitar out of Vince's hands and smashes it against the counter. Bright yellow splinters fly everywhere and Vince scrambles back with a yelp. Turtle and Johnny come running, and stop at the door, watching warily.

"Fucking Billy Walsh! Not again, Vince."

Vince holds up placating hands. "Look, E, I know you don't like him but..."

"No Vince. I hate him. Even if I didn't, I'd still think he was a fucking psychotic ego-manic who is flushing his talent down the toilet because his head is too far up his own ass to see clearly, and whatever mutual obsession the two of you have got going? It's going to take you down with him if you don't leave him alone. If you want to fuck him Vince, just fuck him and get it over with, but for the love of God, stop making movies with him."

 

"E, man, you probably need to calm down a little bit." Turtle's voice is more tentative than E's ever heard it.

He looks at Turtle and Johnny, who haven't moved, who's body language can't decide between fight or flight, and then at Vince who just looks stricken. Fuck! fuck! fuck!

"Fuck! Okay, I need a cigarette."

 

 

He's standing outside, leaning against the railing, when Vince comes out and leans next to him.

"I don't. Want to fuck him. I'm not obsessed either, it's just. When he's on, he's brilliant."

"Yeah."

"He makes me feel that way too. It's like, if I went all Monty Cliff, Billy'd create the best role ever for me."

"And what, the rest of us are just about how pretty you are?"

Vince shrugs, grinning. "Well."

"Bullshit!" There's no heat in it though. That was gone, but so is the knot that has been in his stomach since he flew back from New York. Before then, since South America maybe.

"You are without a doubt, the most beautiful man I've ever seen." He glances over and Vince is staring at him, faintly flush. "You're also one the best actors out there. I wouldn't bust my ass for your fucking career if I didn't believe that, Vince no matter how much I love you."

"Okay."

"I won't work with Billy again, and I'm not going keep giving in to you on things because you _want_ them. None of us is five any more. We have to learn to separate the friendship from the business. Otherwise, we're going to keep fucking up at both of them."

"What happens if we can't?"

"Then we have to choose."

"E, I don't want to lose you as my manager. I couldn't trust anybody else the same way, but I _can't_ lose you as my friend."

"Then I guess we better figure out how to make this work."

"Maybe we need some rules." Vince reaches over, taking the cigarette from between his fingers. He drops it on the cement and grinds it out. "Rule number one-no smoking. Rule number two. You break it, you fix it. So you owe me a new guitar."

Eric rolls his eyes. "So far all these rules are in your favor."

Vince shrugs. "Rule number three, keep the talent happy."

"Fuck you."

"That can be rule number four."


End file.
